


Picture Perfect

by pajama_cats



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 07:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20888198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pajama_cats/pseuds/pajama_cats
Summary: When you can’t describe love sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.Post-game & spoiler free.





	Picture Perfect

Cyril never had love. Sure, he knew what it meant but he never experienced it like so many did.

The only one he held above all was Lady Rhea, but that was for an entirely different reason. She had taken him in despite being an outsider, gave him a place to call home and just about anything he needed. Not for the sake of the Goddess, but from the kindness of her heart.   


For that he was forever in her debt and eternally grateful.

But that wasn’t love. He admired her and wanted to do anything in his power to please her, but he didn’t actually love her in the romantic sense. She was nearly a mother figure to him so that’d be plain awkward.

Much to his misfortune he’s had one too many talks about love with Manuela.   


“Being in love is such a wonderful thing, my dear Cyril. One day you’ll find that special someone that looks at you like you’re their whole world. I wish I had someone like that..”

At the time Cyril didn’t understand it, but he listened to Manuela’s drunken rambles anyway. At least it was uplifting until she started getting depressed about the subject.   


It’s no wonder he always tended to avoid the topic.

Cyril didn’t think years later during the war and still after he’d be looking at Ignatz like that.

You can’t choose who you love, it just happens. But of all people it had to be the painter who had little to no interest in becoming a knight; who could(and did) describe a puddle as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world despite what a hassle it was to others.

But he liked the way Ignatz described things. Everything Cyril saw as plain or took for granted Ignatz would always enlighten him to what he was missing out on. Sometimes he even got to watch him paint and to Cyril that was more fascinating than hearing pretty descriptions.

Cyril never tells Ignatz either. He feels like it wouldn’t bring him any good when it was one sided. Though it didn’t stop him from occasionally telling Ignatz he liked his smile.

There’s one day that Ignatz refuses to show him what he was painting and Cyril feels truly disappointed for the first time.

“Y-you can’t watch. Not this time.” Cyril can only blink and stare in question at Ignatz who fumbles with his paintbrush and guards his easel as if his life depended on it.

“Why not? I’ll be quiet if that’s what’s bothering ya.”

“You never bother me, but this time you aren’t allowed to see until I’m done.” Ignatz’s face softens at that, at him. Cyril doesn’t understand what has him looking like that but he decides it suits him.

“What are you painting anyway?”

“Something complex and complicated, but beautiful.” Why was his face so red now? Before Cyril can ask if he’s sick Ignatz continues. “I’m painting love.”

Cyril furrows his brows. What an odd answer. “Love is a feelin', not something you can see.”   


“Uh, well technically yes. But I’m drawing something to resemble it.”   


“You’re pretty weird, but I guess I like that about ya.” Cyril shakes his head and decides it was the perfect opportunity to make his leave. Who knows how long Ignatz would take with it anyway. Though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious.

“Wait!” It was highly unusual for Ignatz to raise his voice and Cyril has to stop in his steps. “Can you sit here for awhile?”

Why was he acting so weird today? Did something hit him in the head?

“Why?”

“It’ll help me paint.” He  _ definitely  _ was acting strange. Cyril notes how often Ignatz’s face goes a shade of red throughout the day and he has his suspicions the painter may have caught a fever. He really shouldn’t be painting when his head was all funny.

Reluctant as he is Cyril sits down anyway. It’s pretty boring being on the opposite side of the easel when all he can see is Ignatz looking at the scenery then back to his painting. There are so many things he could be productive with right now. Hunting, fishing, scouting the area, but no. He has to sit here and do absolutely nothing. What a nightmare.

It’s not that he dislikes Ignatz’s company, it’s quite the opposite, but not being able to watch him or do anything was irksome. Why couldn’t he just see this painting?

After awhile Cyril nearly drifts off in the damp grass until he hears the familiar happy tone Ignatz expresses every time he finished a painting.  _ Finally.   
_

“Y-you can look now.”   


Cyril stretches, eyeing Ignatz with mild curiosity and doesn’t waste any time seeing this surprise of a painting.

“I.. thought you said you were drawing love?”   


“Y-yes, I did.”   


“But that’s me.” Cyril begins but has to pause with realization hitting him like a brick. Oh!  _ Oh.  _ Did that mean..?

“You love me?” Cyril’s voice is full of wonder, as if even speaking it didn’t feel real. He was loved..?

“You say my descriptions sometimes confuse you so I figured it’d be easier just to paint what I feel.” Ignatz adjusts his glasses looking like it was troubling not to make his smile look so nervous. “But yes, I love you.”

_ This  _ makes Cyril overjoyed in the first time of his life. He can’t recall the last time he felt this happy.. Maybe when he longer had to be a servant in Almyra. This feeling was ten times greater.

“I love you too, I have for awhile now. You never noticed, did ya?” Cyril honest to Goddess  _ grins  _ at a flustered and flabbergasted Ignatz. Oh, he actually never  _ did  _ notice.

“W-What!? You have—“

Cyril doesn’t let Ignatz finish. He’s waited years, heck after the  _ war  _ to kiss Ignatz. Maybe it was rude to interrupt, but there were no complaints from the painter other than a muffled noise of surprise.

When Ignatz finally kisses him back Cyril thinks about how the both of them holding hands and kissing under the sunrise would make a perfect picture.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me shipping these boys so much, bless them 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
